


How hard can we go

by soy_em



Series: Wincest Love Week 2018 [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, Jealous Dean Winchester, M/M, Rough Sex, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-29 21:01:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15081653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soy_em/pseuds/soy_em
Summary: Dean wakes up every day and repeats the same mantra to himself.“Today will not be the day you give in and kiss Sammy. Little brothers are off limits.”Unsurprisingly, his resolution doesn't last that long.





	How hard can we go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NaughtyPastryChef](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaughtyPastryChef/gifts).



Dean wakes up every day and repeats the same mantra to himself. 

“Today will not be the day you give in and kiss Sammy. Little brothers are off limits.”

He repeats it until he’s satisfied its sunk in for the day, then hoists himself out of his inevitably crappy motel bed, and tries not to look at his sleeping brother as he heads for the shower.

***

It had all come crashing back, when Sam had returned to Dean’s life. If Dean had just about been able to ignore it when he’d had Sam looming over him, pinning him to the floor, he’d given up that fight when he’d pushed Sam against the struts of a small bridge in California, the roughness of the fight reminding him in breath-catching detail of all his earlier fantasies of how hard he and Sam could go, how they wouldn’t need to be gentle the way Dean was with girls. 

It’s been weeks since then, and the thoughts have sunk to the bottom of Dean’s mind, simmering away with an urgency that lets them boil over at any moment. It had been easier to keep control at first, Sam’s grief a palpable barrier between them. But as Sam had recovered, started to live again, the weight had lifted with every smile, every flash of dimples. 

That’s where Dean finds himself now, in a state of near constant arousal and self-loathing, as he and Sam hunt an urban legend in Ankeny, Iowa. 

It’s made worse, now, by her.

Sam needs to get over Jess, Dean knows that and he wants that. But it doesn’t stop the monster of jealousy roaring in his chest every time Sam looks at Lori, her sweet face and gentle naivety the exact opposite of Dean. 

Dean reassures himself that he can deal with it. Life has thrown a lot of shit his way, and this is just another cross he has to bear, his punishment for having such thoughts about his little brother in the first place. 

***

But when Dean sees Sam and Lori standing close, her face turned up to his, it’s like something in him snaps. Some elemental decision is taken without his consent. Jealousy wells up in his chest, an all-consuming feeling of ‘mine’ that’s been present, but locked up, since Sam came back to him.

Mine, mine, mine, his mind beats in time with his heart, pulse thundering in his ears. Inhibitions fly out of the window as he stalks across damp ground to Sam. 

“You’re coming with me,” he says, hand tight on Sam’s arm. He pulls Sam along behind him, ignoring Sam’s spluttered protests. They’re weak, anyway; Sam seemingly content to follow. 

Dean drags him back to the motel, not a word spoken between them. As soon as the door closes, Sam pulls free, shaking Dean off; but the monster inside Dean roars its disapproval. 

He moves fast, slamming Sam up against the door with a thump. Sam’s eyes go wide with shock, the pretty green-gold flecks submerged with black. 

“What the fuck, Dean?” he demands, voice loud after all the silence. 

“You don’t get to do that,” Dean says, voice rasping like sandpaper. “You don’t get to make eyes at pretty girls.” The words rush out before he can stop them. “You're mine.”

Sam’s mouth drops open in shock, but he doesn’t disagree, and that’s enough for Dean. Surging forwards, he fuses his mouth to Sam’s. There’s nothing gentle or tender about it, it’s not a hesitant first kiss, designed to seek out a partner’s preferences. Dean means to take, to claim, to let Sam know who he belongs to so that he never thinks of kissing anyone else ever again. 

Dean braces himself for protest, for Sam to push him away, even for a punch flying towards his face. He gets none of that. Instead, Sam kisses back, hands clamping down on Dean’s hips. Sam’s just as fierce as Dean, pushing their tongues together, their mouths so close they’re in danger of becoming one. 

It’s a fight, suddenly; Sam pushing against Dean, hands everywhere, trying to move them across the room. Dean’s shoving back, not yet ready to move or let Sam away from the door.

Sam breaks away from him, panting, and Dean takes the opportunity to sink his teeth into Sam’s neck, biting deep. Sam yells; it’s not deep enough to break the skin but more than enough to hurt. 

“Fuck, Dean,” he pants, hands scrabbling on Dean’s back. 

That sounds like an excellent idea to Dean’s foggy brain. With one last nip, he leaves Sam’s neck, his hands falling to Sam’s waist. Without warning , he spins Sam around, slamming him face first into the door. Sam’s reactions are still good, and he catches himself, pushing back against Dean. 

Dean spares a moment to think that he should ask for consent and be sure that Sam wants this; but the way Sam’s ass is arched back, hips thrusting lightly as he rocks in place, is answer enough. 

Dean presses himself tight against Sam’s back, mouth finding the back of Sam’s neck and smearing across it. Sam moans, the first real sound Dean’s worked out of him, and it’s instantly addictive. 

“Stay,” Dean says, pressing a firm hand to Sam’s neck for a moment. Sam hisses, but does as he’s told while Dean fumbles in his duffel for the lube, fingers clumsy with anticipation.

Once he’s got it he’s free to take in this long-imagined sight of his brother, pressed against the door and in danger of losing all his inhibitions. Sam’s panting, heaving breaths shaking his back, and his fingers are scrabbling at the wood in an attempt to keep still. Dean crosses back to him in one stride, immediately sliding his hands under Sam’s tshirt and pulling it over his head. The miles of smooth, golden skin revealed are a temptation he barely resists, going instead for the fly of Sam’s pants. 

Sam’s naked with a couple of wiggles, pants and boxers pooling around his ankles, and then its Dean’s turn, shucking out of his clothes so fast he almost pulls a muscle. Once they’re both naked, he covers Sam again, skin to skin this time. Warmth seeps through him, and then searing heat, his hands finding the muscles of Sam’s chest and digging in hard enough to leave bruises.

“Come on, Dean, stop teasing,” Sam mutters. Dean hadn’t even considered that he might be considered a tease, his mind genuinely blown by the feel of Sam against him. But now that his attention has been drawn to it, he’s lasered focused on the need to fuck Sam, to be inside his little brother and mark him as his own.

He draws his hands down Sam’s sides, Sam shuddering beneath him, until he reaches Sam’s ass. It’s just as beautiful as he always suspected, and he makes a mental note to put some time aside to really explore it in the near future. But now is not the time; both of them ratcheted up and too desperate for patience. 

Dean squirts the lube bottle so that a more than liberal amount drips down Sam’s ass, prompting Sam to swear loudly, and then sends the bottle over his shoulder. Dipping his finger into the mess, he slides it down until he reaches Sam’s hole, swirling around just to make Sam moan. It works, a punched out sound escaping Sam; and its enough to shock Dean into a sudden thought. 

“You’ve done this before, right?” he pants, finger still moving. 

It takes Sam a few seconds to collect himself enough to answer. 

“Yes, with my fingers.”

Dean has to pause, pressing his forehead to the back of Sam’s neck, while he thinks about the image his brother has conjured. Not to mention trying to override the gleeful voice inside his head rejoicing that he’ll be Sam’s first. 

“You gonna be ok?” he forces himself to ask.

“Just get the fuck on with it,” Sam demands, pusing back; and Dean’s happy to take instruction. He pushes his finger forwards, gently but inexorably, and Sam shudders, tensing just for a second. Dean moves slowly, intending to give Sam a second to adjust, but Sam’s immediately demanding more.

One finger becomes two, and then three, faster than Dean could’ve hoped; Sam’s scorching against him, pushing back against each thrust of Dean’s fingers, bracing himself on the door. “C’mon, Dean, c’mon,” he chants; and Dean’s ego flares at the knowledge that Sam wants this just as much as he does. 

He pulls his fingers out, taking satisfaction from Sam’s whine. He pauses for a brief second, contemplating the need for a condom; but then he thinks about Sam’s blood all over him, his blood on Sam a week before. That ship has long since sailed, anything he’s got has long since been transferred to his brother. And besides, Dean’s always used one before. If the beast roaring in his chest is even more pleased at the thought of going bare, it’s coincidental.

Rubbing his cock along the mess he’s made of Sam’s back, slicking himself up, he wraps his arms around Sam’s chest so that they’re flush. “Ready, Sammy?” he asks, biting Sam’s ear.

“Yes, you fucker, hurry up. And it’s Sam.” The last is drawn out into a high pitched whimper as Dean pushes in, as slow as he can bear, trying to be considerate. But Sam’s having none of it; he arches his hips immediately, taking in more of Dean until Dean retaliates with snarl, thrusting forward until his balls hit Sam’s ass. They both tense in shock, Dean’s hands slipping on Sam’s chest and Sam’s hair tickling his nose. But then Sam groans and flexes his hips. “Move, Dean,” he grunts, and its _on._

Dean’s dreamed of this for years, of all the ways sex with Sam would be different from the girls he usually dated, and he wasn’t wrong. This is more like a fight, like they’re sparring, Sam undulating hard against him, one hand flying back to grip Dean’s side, digging in with sharp little pricks of pain. Dean’s thrusting so hard that Sam has to use his other hand to keep himself braced against the door, which is rocking in its hinges, protesting at their pace. 

Dean’s wanted this for so long that he’s going to come far faster than he’d like; he can only hope they’ll have many more chances to take things a little slower. But for now, he slides his hands down Sam’s stomach, until he’s able to grip Sam’s hard cock, finally getting his hands on something he’s dreamed of for years. 

“Ohfuckdean,” Sam grunts, moving faster, and Dean increases his pace to keep up. Sam’s fucking into Dean’s fist, his cock slick with precome and the sweat dripping from Sam’s hair, and Dean can tell from the trembling across in his stomach, his thighs and down through his arms that Sam’s close. 

“Gonna come for me, Sammy?” he murmurs, licking the shell of Sam’s ear. 

“Fuck, fuck, yes,” Sam says, fingers curling into fists as he does, come streaking across Dean’s hand and onto the door. He tightens around Dean’s cock, and Dean’s right on the edge, unable to hold off any longer. Biting into Sam’s neck again, he comes with a groan, filling Sam up with a vicious, primal satisfaction that final settles the jealous monster in his chest. 

They both slump against the door, Dean’s face buried in Sam’s hair. As Dean comes back to himself, he becomes aware of the world around him again, including a neighbour banging on their wall for them to shut up. He can’t help but giggle, snorting into Sam’s neck, and Sam laughs too. 

When he feels like his legs can hold him up again, he pulls out, a lot more gently than he pushed in. Sam winces, turning around so that his back is against the door.

They stare at each other, lost in the importance of this moment. Dean’s terrified, aghast at the thought that he’s fucked everything up because he couldn’t control his jealousy. He’s on the verge of pulling away, putting as much distance between them as he can, when Sam reaches out, hooking his hand behind Dean’s neck. Sam draws him close enough for their mouths to brush, coaxing Dean into a kiss far more gentle than any other they’d shared. He can’t help but return it, body awash with relief as he combs his hands through Sam’s tangled hair.

Eventually, Sam pulls back, eyes drooping with satisfaction, although he keeps his arms wrapped around Dean’s neck. “I’m exhausted,” he says, low and suggestive against Dean’s ear. “Take me to bed, Dean.”

Dean’s only too happy to comply. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my [Tumblr](https://soy-em.tumblr.com/).


End file.
